The Lodge on Holly Road

by Sheila Roberts

  “And after that, dinner here at the lodge,” Missy said. From the expression on her face you’d have thought they’d be giving away diamond earrings. “A big Christmas Eve dinner with special Christmas china. I saw the picture on the website.”

  His family did that every year, but she made it sound like something unique. Maybe it was for her. John decided not to share anything specific about his family’s typical Christmas Eve.

  “What does your family do for Christmas every year?” she asked.

  “Oh, you know, the usual,” he said vaguely, not wanting to embarrass her by going into detail.

  “I’d like to hear what that is,” she said wistfully.

  “Santa comes to our house on Christmas Eve,” Lalla offered, and took a big drink of juice.

  “Yeah? He comes to our house, too,” John said.

  “There is no Santa,” Carlos insisted yet again.

  “There’s always Santa if you believe,” John told him.

  “Well, I don’t.” Carlos shoved away his plate of half-eaten food.

  “You’re going to feel pretty silly when Santa leaves you a present,” his mother said.

  “He won’t leave me what I want,” grumbled the child.

  Missy ignored him. “So, what does your family do at Christmas?” she asked John, returning to the subject of family tradition.

  He shrugged as though it was no big deal. “Christmas Eve we have a potluck. Aunts and uncles and cousins come over and bring salads and snacks, and my mom cooks up a big pot of clam chowder and makes garlic bread.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Missy said.

  “It is,” he admitted. “My mom’s kind of pissed that I won’t be there this year, but since I’m proposing to Holland, I wanted to make it special. Anyway, we’ll go see both my parents and hers later on Christmas Day, show off the ring. I’ve got it with me.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to give it to Mr. Claussen as soon as I’m done eating. You know, to present it to her.”

  “Can I see it?” Missy asked.

  “Sure.” He’d put real thought into picking out the perfect ring for Holland. It had to be affordable but rich-looking, something unique and special. He pulled out the ring box and opened it, revealing a ring with a square of pink and white diamonds done in fourteen-karat white gold. Little diamonds edged the band.

  “Wow, that’s gorgeous,” Missy breathed.

  “You think she’ll like it?” he asked eagerly.

  “She’d be crazy not to. Your Holland is one lucky lady.”

  “No, I’m one lucky guy. I guess I’ll take this over to Mr. Claussen right now,” he said, and walked over to where the Claussen family was eating breakfast. After a quick greeting, he handed over his treasure.

  “Can we see it?” asked Brooke.

  He nodded. He never got tired of looking at it. He sure hoped Holland would feel the same way. Well, if she didn’t like it, they could always take it back and get one she did like. But the way Brooke Claussen was admiring it confirmed to him that he had darned good taste.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Brooke said, echoing Missy’s comment. “She’ll love it. And what a surprise when Santa gives it to her.”

  John smiled. Yes, this had been a great idea. Now, if Holland would just hurry up and get here. He thanked James Claussen again and went back to his breakfast, feeling like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.

  * * *

  James, Brooke and Dylan were finishing their breakfast when Olivia came out of the kitchen to make the rounds and visit with her guests. She started with the Spikes, who were seated several tables away. Good, Brooke thought. Maybe the boys would be done eating before Olivia reached their table and they could get out the door. She suspected the woman would be more than happy to monopolize her father’s entire morning, and there was no time for that. After all, they did have a busy day ahead. And even if they hadn’t Brooke would’ve found something they needed to do...away from the lodge and Olivia.

  Dylan had already finished his second helping, but suddenly Daddy slowed down, stirring his coffee over and over, dawdling his way through the rest of his casserole. Brooke began to feel antsy.

  “Maybe we should get going,” she suggested.

  “We’ve got lots of time, angel,” her father said.

  “I wonder if there’s any more of that casserole kicking around,” Dylan said.

  “You’ve had two servings,” Brooke pointed out. At this rate they’d never get out of here.

  “So? It’s good.” He signaled the waitress and asked if there was any left.

  “I think so,” she said. “I’ll go see.”

  “Bring one for my sister, too, please.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Brooke said quickly. That casserole had hardly been low-cal. She might as well have slapped it right on her hips. She looked at her brother in disgust. “At this rate you’re going to end up weighing three hundred pounds.”

  “Hey, I’m a growing boy.” He patted his firm middle. “Anyway, I’ll work it off at the gym next week.”

  “I’ll probably never get it off,” Daddy said, “but darn, that was good.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “If this is breakfast, I can’t wait to see what dinner’s like. I haven’t eaten this well since...” He swallowed the rest of his sentence and stared at his cup, then slugged down the last of his coffee as if he could wash away memories of their mother.

  Mom had been a wonderful cook and they’d shared family Sunday dinners even after Brooke and Dylan had moved out. Holidays had always been a mother-daughter bake-fest. It had felt all wrong making the boys’ favorite cookies without Mom. Brooke found herself blinking furiously, trying to dam up the tears.

  The waitress returned with one more piece of French toast casserole for Dylan just as Olivia approached their table. “How was your breakfast?” she asked, smiling at all of them.

  As if she didn’t know it was good. Fishing for compliments. Rather pathetic, if you asked Brooke.

  “Well, I’ve had seconds and my son’s on his third piece of that casserole,” her father said.

  Olivia beamed at them. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I really love to cook for other people.”

  “So did my mother,” Brooke said. Olivia’s smile slipped toward the South Pole.

  “Would you like to join us?” Daddy asked.

  “She probably has to do things in the kitchen,” Brooke said.

  “Oh, that can wait.” Olivia sat down. “So, I imagine that after this, you folks are off to do some Santa shopping.”

  Daddy nodded. “Yep.”

  Missy Monroe and her children walked toward them just then. Well, Missy walked. The little girl, Lalla, was skipping behind her brother, who was off to the races.

  “Good morning,” Missy said.

  “We’re going to make a snowman,” Lalla stopped to inform Brooke. “You want to help us?”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun,” Brooke said. “But I have to do some errands for Santa.”

  That made the girl jump up and down and clap her hands. “Santa! I want a grandma,” she said, still jumping.

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s Santa’s specialty,” Brooke said. “But I know he’ll bring you something wonderful.”

  Meanwhile, Carlos was already out the door. “Come on, Lalla,” her mother urged. “Let’s go put our coats on. Bye, you guys. Have a great day.”

  “What on earth are we going to get those kids?” her father asked, watching them go. “And that’s not a rhetorical question.”

  “The little boy wants a dog,” Olivia said.

  “Yeah.” Dylan nodded. “But they’ve got...what did she call it?”

  “The Entwhistle factor,” Brooke replied. “She has a landlady who doesn’t want dogs.”
>
  “Too bad. But a dog would be an easier feat than a grandma, that’s for sure,” Daddy said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind becoming an honorary grandma. At the rate my boys are going, it may be as close as I’ll ever get.” An honorary grandma. Olivia Wallace was a kindhearted woman, Brooke had to admit. And yes, she could certainly cook. If Mom had lived they probably would’ve become friends.

  For a moment Brooke felt bad about her attitude toward Olivia Wallace. But only for a moment. Yes, the woman could cook, and yes, she was kind, but she was also...predatory. Daddy, still bereaved, Mom’s ashes barely cool, and here she was, inserting herself into their family party, fishing for compliments on her cooking.

  “You think you could do something with the kid?” her father was asking. “Some sort of grandmotherly thing?”

  “I’ll bet Lalla would enjoy baking cookies and maybe reading a Christmas story tomorrow. There’ll be time. They don’t leave until the day after Christmas. In fact, most of our guests will be here through then. Including you folks, right?”

  “That’s right,” Daddy said, and the two exchanged smiles.

  “But you’ll want time with your own family,” Brooke said.

  “We’ll have time together. Anyway, my boys are pretty independent. My younger son probably won’t even make it here before late Christmas Eve. He lives in Wyoming and it’s a long drive.”

  Not arrive until the day was almost over? That shocked Brooke. Who wouldn’t want to be with his family at Christmas?

  “It’s hard for him to get away,” Olivia explained. “He’s seeing someone. Again.”

  The way she said that gave Brooke the impression that someones came and went fairly frequently in her younger son’s life. “Anyway, I can definitely find some time for Lalla.”

  “Then that takes care of her,” Daddy said cheerfully. “I’m afraid the boy will be a problem.” He shook his head. “Too bad. He’s so young to have given up on Santa.”

  “That’s grim,” Dylan said. “I believed in Santa until I was twelve.”

  Brooke raised a teasing eyebrow. “Twelve? How about fourteen?”

  “Hey, I was just milking it then,” her brother said with a grin.

  “Animals are expensive,” Daddy said, returning to the subject at hand. “Even if Missy could have a dog where she lives, it wouldn’t be right to saddle her with the expenses of shots and food and all the other things a dog needs.”

  “What if we gave her money for all that, got her veterinary insurance?” Dylan suggested.

  Her brother was as generous as her father. Brooke smiled in approval. “I’d contribute to that.”

  “Me, too,” Olivia said.

  “I’m not sure.” Daddy rubbed his chin. “We don’t actually know anything about her.”

  “I was just visiting with her,” said Olivia, “and one thing I do know. Besides the fact that there’s no dad in the picture, the poor girl’s mother is dead and she’s raising those children on her own. I think she’s had some tough knocks.”

  “All the more reason to do something really big for her,” Dylan said. “The kid wants a dog. Let’s give him one. Every kid should have a dog.”

  Dylan’s right, thought Brooke, remembering the two yellow Labs they’d had growing up. The last one, Honey, had died shortly before Mom’s cancer came back. Brooke had toyed with getting her father a dog this year, but when she’d hinted at it he’d told her firmly, “No. I don’t want to be around death anymore, not even a dog’s.” And that had been that.

  “You’re forgetting about the landlady,” Daddy said.

  “I wonder if she’d relent if someone paid her a damage deposit,” Brooke mused.

  “Most landlords want a pretty hefty deposit,” Olivia said.

  “I just keep seeing that little boy’s face when he said there’s no such thing as Santa.” Brooke sighed. “A dog would make his Christmas.”

  “Hey, a dog would make his life,” Dylan proclaimed.

  “And Missy seems just as keen on having one,” Brooke recalled from their earlier conversation.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do in that department,” Daddy said. “As for getting in touch with her landlady... We have no idea where she lives.”

  Inspiration struck. “But we do know her landlady’s name,” Brooke said. “How many Entwhistles can there be in Seattle?”

  Dylan was already searching on his phone. “Eight,” he announced. “And one of them’s gotta be our little old lady.” He began punching in numbers on his phone. A moment later he had his first Entwhistle. “Hi. I’m looking for Mrs. Entwhistle. Oh, okay, sorry.”

  “No Mrs. Entwhistle?” Brooke asked.

  “Only a Mister.” Dylan went on to the next number and got a crabby woman who informed him that she was single and demanded to know what he was selling.

  “What are you planning to do if you find her?” Daddy asked as Dylan moved on to his third Entwhistle.

  “Give the phone to Santa and let him take it from there,” Dylan said with a grin.

  Her father’s face turned pale. “What am I supposed to say to this woman?”

  “Tell her you’re Santa and if she doesn’t let Missy’s kid have a dog you’ll run her over with a reindeer. Hi. Mrs. Entwhistle?...Uh, how old are you?...No, this isn’t an obscene phone call...No, I don’t want to know what you’re wearing. I just want to know if you’re old.” Dylan made a face. “She hung up on me.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “I wonder why.”

  “Guys, I think we need to come up with something else for Carlos,” Daddy said.

  Too late. Dylan had a new Entwhistle on the phone. “Mrs. Entwhistle?...Do you have a renter named Missy Monroe?...You do? Great...No, no, she’s not in trouble. I’m a friend of hers and some of us want to get her something special for Christmas...Yeah, she’s a great woman...Uh-huh...Yeah, it’s a bummer that she’s on her own...No, I’m not a boyfriend. Here, let me put my dad on. He can tell you what we’re cooking up.” Dylan handed the phone to his father. “Okay, Dad, close the deal.”

  * * *

  Everyone at the table was looking at James as if he really was Santa Claus and could work holiday magic. Oh, boy. Sweat broke out on his brow.

  He took the phone. “Mrs. Entwhistle?”

  “Yes,” said a shaky voice.

  “Merry Christmas. My name is James Claussen.”

  “And you want to do something for Missy.”

  “Actually, my whole family is in on the surprise,” James said. “And some other friends, too,” he added, glancing at Olivia.

  “Well, I think that’s lovely,” Mrs. Entwhistle said, “but I don’t understand why you’re calling me.”

  His kids and Olivia were all leaning in, watching him intently. Now his armpits were damp and he could feel sweat trickling down his back. “You see, we need your permission before we can get the present we have in mind for Missy and her family.”

  “Oh?” The shaky voice was suddenly infused with steel.

  Oh, boy. “I understand you have concerns regarding your renter owning a dog.”

  “Oh, dogs. No dogs,” Mrs. Entwhistle said. “They’re messy. And noisy.”

  “Well, they can be, which is why so many landlords charge a damage deposit.”

  “I just couldn’t have a dog digging up my yard,” Mrs. Entwhistle said, and James could almost see her shuddering.

  “A well-trained dog wouldn’t do that. That’s why we’d be paying for obedience training.” Okay, where had that come from? In for a penny, in for a pound, James decided. “And, of course, I’ll pay whatever the going rate is for a pet deposit.”

  “My friend Wilma charges five hundred dollars,” said Mrs. Entwhistle. Her voice was getting strong
er by the minute.

  That seemed a little steep to James.

  He was about to say so when Mrs. Entwhistle continued. “I shouldn’t do this. I’ll regret it. But...”

  She seemed to be saying, Jump in and make your offer. What the heck. It was only money and he couldn’t take it with him. “Well, I’ll be happy to pay that,” James said. Although happy probably wasn’t the most accurate word. “And really, dogs make a nice addition to a family. They also discourage vandals and robbers.”

  “Oh, I never thought of that.”

  Probably because she’d be able to take on a burglar single-handed. She’d probably hold him hostage and demand he pay a damage deposit. “If the dog does more than five hundred dollars’ worth of damage...”

  He didn’t need a crystal ball to see who’d be on the hook for it. “How about when I come by to pay you the damage deposit, I give you my phone number? That way if there’s a problem you can call me.”

  “That is an excellent idea, and it would make me feel so much better about this,” she said, her voice reverting to its former frail state.

  No good deed goes unpunished, James thought as he completed his arrangements with Mrs. Entwhistle. This was crazy and extravagant and reckless. And just the sort of thing Santa should do.

  “You’re a very kind man,” Mrs. Entwhistle said before ending the call. “Missy is a lucky young woman to have you in her life.”

  “Thank you,” James said. And if this dog thing didn’t work out, he’d have more than Missy in his life. He’d have a dog, too. And Missy wouldn’t be feeling so lucky. But he assured himself that it would work out now that the landlady was on board. “Looks like we’re good to go,” he told the others.

  “She’ll be thrilled,” Olivia said.

  “Daddy, you’re brilliant,” Brooke praised him. Was that what you called it when a man offered to pay a hefty pet deposit to someone he didn’t know for someone he’d just met? No, if he was brilliant he’d have found a way to stop this holiday madness.

  But then he wouldn’t be feeling so darned happy.